


Dave Strider Hates Rom-Coms (But Apparently He's Living One)

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-19
Updated: 2013-07-23
Packaged: 2017-12-20 17:29:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/889919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave Strider has practically been reduced to pulling Karkat Vantas's oblivious pigtails in order to get noticed, but the latter's far too busy having a mental breakdown over 'Fucking Dave Fucking Strider' to even consider getting laid.</p><p>It's all terribly clichéd, but at least they've both got the situation under control. </p><p>Huh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Karkat.

“It’s fucking dodgeball, Strider. Take those abominable douche-shades off, you upstanding dickwit, and throw the shitting ball in at least the other team’s _general_ direction before I take a piss on your ridiculously, and unnecessarily, short gym shorts just to provide me with something productive to do. But, oh, you ask, Karkat, how would pissing on Dave Strider’s shorts be productive? I’m so fucking happy you asked, Karkat, let me tell you; _perhaps_ it’s because he’d have to make time in between his I’m-a-royal-asshole schedule to wash them, and perhaps, Karkat, he’d be then forced to wear something on his legs that were not designed for a euro-pop, neon-rainbow, ‘look at the unsatisfactory size of my bone bulge’ party at the ‘taste my garishly moist nook’ orgy club.”

“That of which you’re a regular member I presume,” Dave replies, moving his hand to the dip in his back and gently pushing it forward, arching his body so his euro-pop shorts can ride up some more, “plus, Karketamine, you come piss on my shorts, you do it man, ‘cause it means I got one more thing to add to my ‘things that have Karkat’s bodily fluids on’ collection just under my ‘Vantas Want-Ass’ shrine. Come on, don’t be shy, Diddy knows you just want me to take off these shorts so you can get a good glimpse at the God of all genitalia, the dick deity, the intercourse idol, Cocki: the Norse Nob of Mischief.”

Your name is Karkat Vantas. A wayward dodgeball flies gracefully through the air, the acceleration causing it to travel in a seamlessly straight path, taking no victims, and hitting you squarely in the jaw. You don’t notice it- nor the distant whoop from Nitram, who mistakenly believes he successfully did something right in a sports game for the first time in his entire existence- because you’re too busy gaping at the biggest, most insufferable jackass that has ever graced you with his pompous presence. Fucking Dave fucking Strider. 

It takes a good thirty seconds for any of your senses to come back to you, the process quickened by Sollux stalking over to you with his awkwardly lanky limbs, picking up the ball and waving it in your face until you manage to glance in his direction. “KK, get off the court. You got hit with a ball. This is dodgeball. I would really appreciate if you could understand and follow the rules of the game, ergo, pick up your shit and sit at the side because Equius is getting ragey and sweaty and fuck me if I’m dealing with that after class.”

You noticeably shudder before you can react; “it was a headshot! Headshots don’t fucking count, you duplicated bladder infection. Reread your shitty gaming manuals and tell me that the second rule, in all of your cumstained brochures for a lonelier life, is not ‘nothing above the shoulders’. It’s pure common fucking knowledge. The first rule of dodgeball is not to talk about dodgeball, the second rule of dodgeball is no cowardly horn hitting head shots, and the third rule is no fucking bulge smuggling shitty shorts or shades.”

The gymnasium is mostly silent, but, from the corner of your eye, you can see Egbert hobbling towards you looking like he’s just injected himself with a ray of sunshine, flowers shooting out his ass and happy puppies yapping in his ear all year round. He has a fucking skip in his step and if that isn’t the last thing you need to see right now you don’t know what is.

“Hey, Karkat! Are you okay? That looked like it hurt pretty bad,” if he was truly sympathetic, you think, his smile would be at least ten times smaller, “but, er, I was thinking… I know it was a headshot and all, but Tavros is pretty proud of himself, and you weren’t really playing anyway, ehehe, you were just shouting at Dave,” Dave smirks and most probably winks, but you can’t tell because of the uncommonly welcome barrier of the glasses, “so maybe you could, you know, just sit out for the rest of the match?”

You stare Egbert down; his dark hair is as ecstatic as he, apparently, always is, his glasses are perched happily on his upturned nose, and his teeth, his fucking teeth, looking about as desperate to get away from his body as you are.

“Fine. That’s fine. That shit is as fine as the lines on Strider’s shitty homoerotic webcomics. Play without me, I’m gonna go piss on ALL of your shorts and I hope you fucking lick it up like Terezi would and tell me it tastes like Troll Jack Nicholson’s asscrack. Fuck you all, and goodbye!”

As you storm out of the gym you hear a smarmy snort from both Sollux and Strider before play continues without you. Just as you reach the door, you spy a lone ball sitting forgotten in the corner and lift it up gently, caressing the texture with your fingertips. Sweet, sweet, forgotten dodgeball. You pivot quickly on your toes and slam the ball in the direction of Tavros’ face, missing by only an inch. It swerves and hits one of his oversized horns, causing him to lose balance of his four wheeled device and fall like a ton of mouldy grubloaf to the dusty, dirty, hardwood floor. Silence falls in the same manner.

You grumble something about overreacting nooksuckers as the double doors close behind you.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]  
TG: sup  
CG: FUCK.  
CG: I THOUGHT TODAY MIGHT BE THE DAY, **THE** GLORIOUS DAY, WHERE DAVE STRIDER DECIDES NOT TO PESTER ME WITH HIS TRIVIAL BULLSHIT. BUT NO, HERE WE ARE, TOGETHER AGAIN, AS I REMAIN UNREQUITEDLY ENRAGED WITH YOUR AUDACITY TO MAKE ME WANT TO CRAWL INTO A NUT CREATURE’S SNIFFNODES AND EAT UP EVERY LAST SHRED OF ITS TANGY, CINAMMON-SWIRL SNOT.  
TG: so you read my comics  
CG: WHAT.  
TG: you said  
TG: and i quote  
TG: that shit is as fine as the lines on striders shitty homoerotic webcomics  
TG: translated as that shit is as fine as his perky white talented ass  
TG: im flattered  
CG: IT IS EXTREMELY DIFFICULT NOT TO READ THEM WHEN YOU THROW THEM IN MY FUCKING FACE EVERYTIME YOU UPDATE AS IF YOU TRULY THINK THAT I GIVE ONE OUNCE OF A GASSY SHIT PARTICLE.  
CG: PLUS TEREZI HAS PLASTERED THEM ON HER WALL USING HER SPIT AS STICKSUBSTANCE. DON’T FUCKING ASK ME WHY, I WANT TO PUKE OVER THEM EVERYTIME I ENTER HER RESPITEBLOCK BUT I DOUBT SHE’D BE ABLE TO SMELL THE DIFFERENCE.  
TG: you enter her respiteblock huh  
TG: sounds dirty  
TG: do you do the dirty  
TG: do you do the diddy dirty all up in her doodoo  
TG: do you write beautiful poetry about it  
TG: despite my lack of cock  
TG: fuckin tz in my respite block  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING.  
TG: lookin like some fucked up porn>  
TG: amateur section coz my shitty horns  
CG: I URGE YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP.  
TG: some nights she makes me put on shades  
TG: bitin her lip to stop screamin dave  
CG: THAT DOESN’T EVEN RHYME. PLUS IT’S SHIT. IT’S SHIT AND IT DOESN’T RHYME AND, OH YES, IT’S WRONG. IT IS SO WRONG THAT IF YOU WERE TO WRITE IT AS AN EXAMPLE IN AN ESSAY QUESTION TITLED ‘THINGS THAT ARE RIGHT’ THEY WOULD READ IT AND PUT IT IN THE SECTION OF THE TEXTBOOK CALLED “TOP STUDENT MISTAKES,” RIGHT UNDER THE PICTURE OF YOU IN THE HUMAN HANDBOOK THAT SAYS “TOP HUMAN REPRODUCTION MISTAKES- DO NOT ENGAGE IN SEXUAL INTERCOURSE AS DAVE STRIDER COULD POTENTIALLY BE THE EVERLASTING PRODUCT OF ONE RECKLESS NIGHT OF PASSION.”  
TG: stop with the sexy lingo karkitty  
TG: reproduction  
TG: sexual intercourse  
TG: oh yes  
TG: it is so wrong  
TG: dave strider

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG] 

\-- carcinoGeneticist  [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]   


CG: MY HATE FOR YOU CANNOT BE ANALOGISED.   
TG: anal orgied???

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechGodhead [TG]

\-- carcinoGeneticist  [CG] began trolling turntechGodhead [TG]   


CG: FUCK YOU.  
\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechgodhead [TG]   
TG: <3


	2. Karkat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Karkat's confused, Dave is unperturbed, and Rose is a good sister.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm extremely sorry for the excessive use of chat logs, I just find them so much fun to write (probably because character interaction is my favourite device for plot development). However, I'll limit it in future chapters, I promise! There will be actual _character_ development and a more compelling story line after these horribly short introductory updates, not just Karkat being a grumpy, confused and hormonal teenager.

“You smell like blossoming bruises,” Terezi comments, the looming cackle present in the way her dimples almost reach the frame of her tinted glasses. She takes a good long sniff of your cheek and you can feel the intake of air trailing from your jaw to the top of your cheekbone. You do not stiffen, you do not blush, and you most definitely do not get awkward goosebumps (thankfully hidden by your oversized jumper).

No, you do all of those things and you stammer like an idiot, too, because, for some godforsaken reason, you have a flush crush on Terezi Pyrope. Fucking Terezi fucking Pyrope.

“Karkat forgot the fourth rule of dodgeball,” Dave deadpans. It’s lunchtime and he’s sitting opposite Terezi and in-between John and Kanaya, who’s only here for the Lalonde girl. You’re only seated at this table because Kanaya and Terezi are in your extremely short list of bearable people to be with for more than two minutes, but that arrangement backfired a few weeks ago when you realised it meant you were stuck with the awful fourful every damn break. “Don’t get hit with the fucking ball.”

Terezi’s high pitch giggle rings more like a shriek through the cafeteria, Jade Harley pushes up her glasses as she lets out a snort and Egbert hides his laugh behind his hand because he’s nice like that. You’ve had enough with this bullshit, seriously; this bullshit can remove himself from the premises immediately, this bullshit can hand in its week notice and move to new rented accommodation on the other side of the city, and stop trying to get in contact because you’re over, you’ve had your fun, yes, we were a great couple, but what’s done is done, move on.

Maybe your quick, rebound stint with bullshit was partly due to Dave and Terezi being _something_. You don’t even know what fuck it is, and you don’t know if you want to, ever; it’s like a crappy unspoken rule that Strider will go to Pyrope’s and they’ll draw shitty comics and he’ll teach her how to use turntables whilst she puts a blindfold on him and teaches him how to draw ironic, blind-person art; they’ll message each other all the time with inside jokes and personalized shit but, when they’re out in the open, they don’t hold hands or kiss or do anything that two _obviously_ flushed beings should. It makes your thinkpan reek of confusion and anger because, now you have readily prepared yourself for a life of isolation, you’ve taken to ensuring that at least Terezi is happy and gets what she fucking deserves for being so fucking great, and Strider is clearly not up to the job.

“Your head is so far up your autoerogenous shame globe, Strider, it’s not a surprise you talk such shit. You probably eat it, too! You probably liquefy it so you can shower in it and-“

“Shower in his own shit?” Terezi laughs, “Karkat please stop acting like such an _ignoramus_ , you’re embarrassing us.”

“Yeah, Karkat,” Dave says, “watch your tongue.”

That doesn’t even deserve a reaction, and it certainly doesn’t deserve a carton of apple juice in his smarmy face but, what the fuck ever, you’ve had a bad day (bad week, bad year, yeah, okay, we get it) and Strider needs someone to sort out his immaculately styled fringe. How the hell are there no gaps? You’ve tried for years to get some form of control over your hair and, nope, nada, see you never.

Dave manages to block the throw, flinging his arm out in front so the majority of it spills on the table and onto his hand. He licks his fingers, one by one, sucking on every last digit whilst his nose- and, you assume, his eyes- are pointed in your direction.

“I love aj,” he comments.

You grumble something about overreacting nooksuckers as the double doors close behind you.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

GC: H3Y K4RK4T   
GC: 1F YOU W4NT M3 TO T4LK TO H1M FOR YOU 1 C4N >;]  
CG: WHO AND WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING WITH YOUR STUPIDLY IMMATURE ELUSIVENESS?  
GC: H3H3H3H3H  
GC: COOLK1D OF COURS3  
GC: YOUR3 P4INFULLY OBV1OUS H4T3 CRUSH  
CG: NO.  
CG: NO, NO, NO.  
CG: **NO.**  
CG: FUCK NO.  
CG: I DO NOT HAVE A HATECRUSH ON THAT SHITSTAIN, HE IS JUST, AS PREVIOUSLY MENTIONED (SEE 6 WORDS AGO) A SHITSTAIN. THE FACT THAT YOU DO NOT SEE HIM AS (SEE 32 WORDS AGO) A SHITSTAIN, CONTINUES TO SURPASS ALL THE LOW EXPECTATIONS I PREVIOUSLY HAD OF YOU. IF YOU DO NOT HATE DAVE STRIDER YOU ARE WRONG.  
GC: 4R3 YOU SO WRONG TH4T 1F YOU W3R3 TO WR1T3 IT 4S 4N 3X4MPL3 1N 4N 3SS4Y QU3ST1ON T1TLED TH1NGS TH4T 4R3 R1GHt TH3Y WOULD R34D 1T 4ND PUT 1T 1N TH3 S3CT1ON OF TH3 T3XTBOOK C4LL3D TOP STUD3NT M1ST4K3S >8D  
CG: HOLY FUCK ARE YOU WITH THAT DOUCHEBAG NOW?  
GC: NO  
GC: H3 JUST S3NDS M3 4LL TH3 H1L4R1OUS TH1NGS YOU S4Y >:]  
GC: 4ND 1 SM3LL D3N1444444L  
CG: YOU’RE PROBABLY MISTAKING IT FOR THE SUPREME IDIOCY AIDS THAT HE HAS SOMEHOW PASSED TO YOU THROUGH YOUR SLOPPY HUMAN MAKEOUTS. THERE IS NO CURE, TEREZI. I’M SORRY, THIS IS GOODBYE. NOW BEGINS YOUR SLOW TURMOIL TO THE SPIKY SPIKES OF THE GATES OF DEATH, AND TO BE FRANK, I DO NOT CARE IN THE FUCKING SLIGHTEST.   
GC: IN YOUR DEATH I SHALL CELEBRATE THE FACT THAT THE WORLD IS RID OF ONE LESS BATSHIT CRAZY BLIND GIRL WHO CLEARLY SMELLS CALIGINOUS RELATIONSHIPS IN EVERY WORD OF DISTASTE SHE HEARS. FUCK YOU, TEREZI. FUCK YOURSELF, BECAUSE I SHALL NOT, BECAUSE I DO NOT WANT THIS DISEASE. GO BACK TO YOUR HIVE TO REST. YOUR HIV-E. YOUR H.I.V-E. AIDS. IDIOCY AIDS. FUCK.  
GC: H3H3H3H3H  
GC: 1LL T3LL H1M YOULL TH1NK 4BOUT 1T  
CG: NO.  
CG: SHIT.  
CG: WHAT.  
CG: I THINK I JUST THREW UP A LITTLE BIT.  
CG: TEREZI I WANT YOU TO STOP CONNIVING WITH THAT DICKSTAIN THIS INSTANT.

\-- gallowsCalibrator [GC] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] 

CG: SHIT.

You stumble around your respiteblock like a flailing _you don’t even know what_ ; you can’t focus for long enough to form a coherent thought, words and flashes of red and black are enveloping you and your claws are starting to dip so far past your hairline you may very well be breaking skin. You’re fairly certain that the hope that, one day, you’d see Strider ripped apart from the inside by some form of rabid parasite was all that was needed to keep your mutated blood running through your veins like a fucking trollercoaster but now- now that sentence all seems far too caliginous for your liking. 

You hate him, of course you do. He’s obnoxious and arrogant, he’s vain and pompous and full of so much crap he probably has to use a pooper scooper to get it out of his tight ass. He speaks like a wiseass fuckbrain and every syllable he says seems to roll from his human tongue like it’s made of gold and being presented on a velveteen pillow. You hate Strider, God you do, but not like _that_. So why is this affecting you so much? It’s just Terezi having her sniffnodes so far down his throbbing phlegm lobe that she doesn’t realise she’s the only one in the world who could find that pile of rotting faeces attractive, and you deal with her insane bullshit all the time, incomprehensibly frequently in fact.  
So calm the fuck down.

Calm the fuck down, Vantas.

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]

TG: hey

You find it increasingly impossible to calm the fuck down.

CG: ISODHAK’OSDKLJAOSLKJFSKLDGJHIJHK  
TG: holy shit  
TG: youve finally lost it  
TG: tz owes me ten dollars now  
CG: FUCK, DOES SHE? THE HILARITY EMITTING FROM THAT STATEMENT HAS GIVEN ME SOME FORM OF THRILLING OVERLOAD. OH, WAIT A MINUTE KARKAT, THAT'S AN ANEURYSM. HOPEFULLY IT WILL KILL ME.  
TG: you seem a little on edge  
TG: wanna massage??  
TG: im good with my hands  
CG: I WANT YOU TO FUCK OFF, STRIDER. I'D LIKE TO MAKE THIS PAINSTAKINGLY CLEAR, EMPHASIS ON THE PAIN, THAT I DO NOT EVER WISH TO SEE YOUR MUTATED TEXT COLOUR ON MY SCREEN EVER AGAIN, OR HAVE YOUR DISFIGURED FACE AND FUCKING **I’M NOT INSECURE I’M JUST MYSTERIOUS** SHADES GRACING MY PRESENCE. YOU’RE LUCKY THAT TEREZI IS BLIND BECAUSE IF SHE COULD SEE THE SCRAWNY, LANKY, BONE BULGE YOU ARE SHE’D BE OUT OF YOUR ASSCRACK FASTER THAN YOU COULD SAY “ALL I WANTED WAS EVERYONE ON EARTH’S FUCKING ATTENTION.”  
CG: I AM 500% DONE WITH YOU. JUST BECAUSE YOUR LIFE IS FUCKED UP DOESN’T MEAN YOU HAVE TO FUCK UP EVERYONE ELSE’S TOO. I’M AWARE THAT I’VE FUCKED UP WITH TEREZI, AND I KNOW THAT HER FEELINGS WILL NEVER BE FLUSHED FOR A HUMAN-SCROTUM-SACK SUCH AS MYSELF, AND I THOUGHT THAT WAS THE LOWEST MY LOVE LIFE COULD GET TO BUT **NO**. YOU HAVE TO COME IN AND THROW ALL THE FUCKING QUADRANTS INTO THE FUCKING FIRE AND LEAVE MY LIFE A FUCKING PUDDLE IN THE MUD. PISS OFF, STRIDER, PISS OFF AND DO ONE OF THOSE MARRIAGE THINGS WITH THE GIRL OF MY NIGHTMARES.  
TG: whoa  
TG: so you like tz  
CG: …  
TG: what even is the point of putting … when that clearly means yes  
TG: it doesnt even signal an awkward silence  
TG: you could just not reply this is a text based conversation right  
TG: so do you like tz or not  
CG: PERHAPS.   
CG: SHIT. I THOUGHT I DID BUT I DON’T FUCKING KNOW NOW.  
TG: brb  
TG: Hello, Karkat.  
CG: WHAT.  
TG: This is Rose, I have been informed that my psychoanalysis techniques would be preferable to my brother’s questionable comforting skills.  
TG: Excuse me, I shall make the identity of your conversational partner clearer by resorting to my typical pesterchum text color.  
CG: I DON’T NEED A THERAPIST OR WHATEVER THE FUCK YOU’RE TRYING TO DO. LEAVING ME THE FUCK ALONE WOULD BE PREFERABLE RIGHT ABOUT NOW.  
TG: Yes, I can understand that you feel rather emotionally claustrophobic at this moment in time, but speaking to an outsider should provide you with some clear space within your ‘think pan.’ Kanaya informs me that you are prone to repressing too many of your emotions, specifically those of a pitying nature.   
TG: Is that true?  
CG: …  
CG: MAYBE.  
TG: I see. Rereading through this conversation and drawing conclusions from my own observations into your relationship with Miss Pyrope, I believe that you are confused.  
CG: THAT’S IT? THAT’S ALL YOU CAN DEDUCE? WELL EXCUSE ME, TROLL SHERLOCK HOLMES, BUT YOUR ARE FUCKING SHIT.  
TG: I see that your insults are becoming far less creative, almost bland in comparison to your usual colorful idiolect. Let me explain some more.  
TG: Terezi appears to be, unless I am mistaken, your oldest friend. You have grown with her, been with her before her disability manifested itself and cared for her throughout, and within this time span you developed your flushed feelings towards her. Her budding friendship with my half-brother then appeared as a form of competition, he was, or is, threatening to take away this lifelong friendship that has reached strengths that have surprised even you. This jealousy you’re clearly portraying has developed from the fear of losing Terezi, but that’s not what is causing this breakdown.  
CG: WHAT BREAKDOWN?  
TG: It is the confusion of your feelings that is affecting you so much. Kanaya informs me of your fixation with quadrants, and how this obsession often clouds your judgement. We believe that you are not flushed for Terezi, Karkat, you are flushed for being flushed. You want to be in love, and, with your ever-growing friendship, Terezi is the easiest emotional vessel to fill with your desire for romantic companionship.  
TG: In simple terms, you love the idea of loving her. But you do not actually love her.  
CG: …  
TG: I shall pass you back to Dave, now. Good luck, Karkat. I’m sure everything shall become clear to you soon.  
TG: sup  
TG: you know  
TG: if you want me to lay off tz for a bit i could deal with that  
TG: its not like shes my girlfriend  
TG: shes my bro  
CG: I DON’T WANT YOUR PITY, STRIDER.

\-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling turntechgodhead [TG]

TG: cool

**Author's Note:**

> //coughs awkwardly   
> I warned you it was cliched, but hopefully not for long!


End file.
